Sometimes We Forget the Importance of Humor
I had polio when I was 4 1/2 months old…back in 1952. Obviously before the vaccine. As much as I’d love to make this all about me, it isn’t! It’s about a friend of mine, Roger Anderson. Roger and I met in 1980 when I started playing wheelchair basketball with the local team, the Eugene Lowriders (most of the other teams called us “Lowlifers”, but that’s another story). Anyway, Roger and I, along with all the other teammates, became good friends. But as the years have gone by, we’ve lost many of them, including Roger. About 10 years ago Roger developed a brain tumor and after several months of fighting it, he died. It was a sad day for all of us, but like you wrote about in Humor Me, we were able to find some joy at Roger’s celebration of life.
During the service, those who wanted to would get up in front of the congregation at his church and speak about Roger. And all the stories were pretty much the same…Roger was a nice guy, whom everyone liked, and he helped the kids with their chairs, and if you needed anything Roger was always there…blah, blah, blah. Now, I don’t mean to by cynical, but the Roger I knew would have barfed if he’d been there! (Actually, there was something sticky on the drivers seat when I got back to the car, but I never was able to prove anything!) The Roger I knew was funny; from his hair, which was always in place, right down to the aftershave he never was without, including before he hit the court on game day! But the story that really shows Roger was one I heard about two weeks before his death.
When Roger was a child (4 or 5) and living in North Dakota, he and his brothers were playing with a bucket and gas trying to blow up stuff. A practice that is common among most rural males…my apologies if you’re a rural male! Anyway, there was an accident and Roger was burned over 80% of his body. As the years went on, he lost both his legs and had to have several surgeries. Now, fast forward to two weeks before his death. One of our friends, Loran Cushing, went to see Roger in the hospital and during this conversation, Roger mentioned that when he dies he hoped they cremated him so he can finish the job he started all those years ago! Ahhhhhh! A Rogerism if I ever heard one!
So in the midst of this tribute (at the funeral) to Roger’s “helpfulness” to friends and family, I got up and related this story to the 100+ people there. When I hit the punch line, all I heard was silence. I stood there a few seconds, although it seemed like a few hours, then the laughter started to build. It was as if people wanted to laugh but were afraid to, but it just got too funny for them to ignore. It still brings tears to my eyes to relate it all these years later.
After the service his sister, Joyce, sought me out and gave me a huge hug and thanked me for telling the story. “No one seemed to understand Roger,” she said, “until you told that story. Now everyone is talking about Roger’s sense of humor and how he always made us laugh! Thank you!”
After reading your chapter in this book, it made me realize that I hadn’t thought of Roger and the great times we had over the years for a long time. It also made me realize that I haven’t brought enough humor into my life recently as I’ve been feeling a bit sorry for myself since I’ve started to feel the effect of post-polio syndrome. The other article that has inspired me is the one by Michael Aronin, the guy with CP. I’ve actually seen him once a long time ago and envied him for his humor. I’ve always used humor to combat my situation, but never had the courage to do anything about it. With yours and Michael’s help, I’m moving in that direction.
Thanks Jim. – Ron